❝Maybe there's a whole bunch of impossible people waiting for me out there. Waiting to make me feel that same uncertainty again and again.❞
Allison Romero has never had any luck when it comes to finding love, or maintaining friends...or just about...
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a/n I got some new character aesthetics at the very beginning of the book created by itsdailylegacies and they are so cute! I really feel as if they suit the characters. Go check them out and let me know what you think! x this chapter is pretty short and light hearted but I wanted to give a little break from all the drama that's been happening, so. This chapter also isn't the best bc I've been really miserable lately (more than the usual) so sorry.
30: CHAPTER THIRTY
I WAKE up to findmyself tucked in on Ethan's bed. When I try to stretch, I find that my arms are tangled up in the covers that are thrown over me. I hear the sound of pots and pans clanging not too far from the room. I get up from the bed and rub my face, checking my phone for the time. It's ten in the morning.
I'm not sure how I got into his bed. Maybe he carried me here. I was horrified by the idea. I hope I didn't snore or drool. Did we sleep together? What time exactly did he carry me to his bed? Did we cuddle? So many questions race through my mind.
"Hey." I poke my head into the kitchen where Ethan is looking through the fridge.
"Good morning," he replies without turning around.
"Mornin," I mumble back. "Where's your bathroom?"
He finally turns to look at me over his shoulder. "It's down the hall to the left."
I nod and leave after that. I'm a tab bit appalled when I see my reflection staring back at me. I probably should have taken off my makeup yesterday. Now my mascara is smudged around the edges of my eyes and my lipstick is smeared. I splash water over my face and open up a toothbrush I found in the drawers.
Once I'm done freshening up, I throw my unkempt hair into a bun above my head and retreat back to the kitchen. Ethan glances up at me then. He's wearing black sweatpants and a black sweatshirt. "Sit," he tells me and gestures to the island. I do as told and he sets a plate down in front of me.
I furrow my eyebrows and move the fork around the sloppy mess. "What's this supposed to be?"
Ethan brushes his curls of hair away from his eyes. His hair is damp meaning he must've just got out the shower. "An omelette."
"This doesn't look like an omelette."
He grimaces. "I tried."
I chuckle. "How about I cook breakfast while you go do whatever it is that you do?"
